Variance
by Enness
Summary: The curtains close on a kiss, God knows, but where do they go from here? EricJack slash.
1. Love Steals Us From Loneliness

Series Title: Transformation

Summary: "The curtains close on a kiss/God knows", but where do they go from here? E/J slash.

Series/Sequel: 1/4. This mini-series follows on from "Zero Zero" – you probably don't need to read that first, but it'll fill in the blanks.

Warnings: Slash. Boys kissing other boys (and then some…)

Rating: Can it be M just for suggestions? Eh, probably best to aim high rather than low.

Archiving: Just ask.

Disclaimer: Disney owns these characters. I don't. I also just paid college tuition fees, so I have about €20 to my name right now, which means you can sue all you want.

A/N: Say, anyone remember at the end of "Zero Zero" when I said I was already working on this and it would probably be up soon? Well, that was a lie. A great big massive lie with feckin bells hangin' off it. In my defence, in the mean time I've sat the most important exams of my life, spent a summer working, spent September buying shiny new things with my summer money and gotten into college (pimp) and also written a Firefly fic and plotted a Buffy fic while working through the block on this one (/pimp), so don't be too mad. Plus, I had it written and beta-ed almost a month ago, then my computer went and crapped out on me before I could actually post it. So really, you should be blaming Microsoft. Actually, that holds true in general. Also, a shiny nickel for the first person to recognise the chapter titles.

Thanks to Wicked Wonder for the beta (on her shiny new computer! With fancy MS Word editing stuff!), and for general awesomeness. If you haven't read her 'Food' series...why are you still here? Go read it!

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Chapter 1: Love Steals Us From Loneliness

_Jack:_

I woke up to screeching. I was up and out of bed purely on instinct before I realized that it was just my roommate, Rachel, in the middle of a laughing fit. As I began to wake up properly, I took in the room around me and noticed that Eric was already gone.

-Figures. Odds are he's the reason behind the screeches-

I staggered towards the bedroom door, remembering to pull on pants and a shirt first, and down into the kitchen/living room/dining room of the apartment. The first thing I saw was Rachel, clutching the island in the middle of the kitchen and shaking so hard with laughter that it's a wonder she didn't fall over. The second thing was Eric, a cereal bowl upended on his head, his shirt sodden with milk and Cheerios tangled in his long hair. It's a little bit scary that this didn't seem particularly odd to me any more.

"Do I want to know?"

He considered it for a few seconds. "…Probably not."

"'Kay." I learned a long time ago that it's sometimes better not to ask. I sat down opposite him and poured out some cereal for myself. Still trying to salvage a little dignity from the situation, he calmly lifted the bowl from his head and set it on the table without a word. Rachel had run out of breath to screech and was now just shaking, slowly turning purple all the while. Shooting a dirty look her way, my boyfriend headed for the shower.

It still feels a little weird saying that. Boyfriend. It's been a little over a month since we first kissed, since we (or at least I) realized how we felt about each other, and yet it doesn't quite roll off the tongue yet. I guess I just need a little more time or something.

"Man, I'm really gonna miss living with you two," said Rachel, who had recovered enough to breathe and was pouring herself some fruit juice. She had moved back into the apartment about a week after she left; Angela and Topanga had finally gotten tired of the extra guest on their dorm room floor. Rachel had made it clear straight away that it was a temporary arrangement, giving us a little speech that she had clearly been thinking about for a while.

"It's not that I don't love you both, and it's not that I have a problem with your relationship. It's just that…I think it's time I move on. To an apartment with other girls because, let's face it, me living with men leads to disaster. I moved in with my last boyfriend, he turned into a jerk. I moved in with you two, you ended up dating each other. So I'm thinking female roommates are the way to go."

Of course, we tried to convince her to stay. Rachel was like a sister to us, not to mention a major factor in the two of us getting together, since she was the one who made me realize how I felt (albeit by writing it on an anvil and dropping it on me, but sometimes you need a shove in the right direction), and neither of us wanted her to leave. I threw out an obligatory "You know you don't have to go", but as usual she just raised her eyebrows at me and went back to her juice. Rachel is stubborn like that; once she got it into her head that she was going to move out, there was no changing her mind.

The shower was still running in the background, and I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. Eric naked. Eric naked and soapy. I wonder if Rachel would notice if –

"Don't even think about it."

OK, go for the innocent approach. There's no way she knows – I'm not that obvious. "Think about what?"

"You're wondering if I'd notice if you followed Eric in there." Damn. She's good. "Look, you know I don't have the slightest problem with you two acting couple-y. Hell, I think it's kinda hot," she added with a grin. "And if I happen to occasionally hear stuff late at night that I really, really shouldn't hear? I can deal. But you two doing it in the tub where I'll be having my morning bath in about 20 minutes? No way."

I guess that's fair. I mean, this is her apartment too, and we – wait, what? "What stuff late at night?"

She smiled her evillest smile, and on a 6'7 red-headed Amazon, that's pretty darn evil. "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

I considered this for a moment while making a mental note to soundproof every inch of the apartment. "Rach? How about we never, ever talk about this again?"

"I'll let it drop for now," she agreed, letting out a happy sigh. "It's so much fun to mess with your head. Really sets me up for the day." Finished with her fruit juice, she started cleaning up the Cheerios and milk that had missed Eric. I moved to help her, but she waved me away.

"It was my fault anyway. I might as well clean it up."

By the time she was done, Eric was coming down the stairs, entirely free of breakfast foods. Draping an arm lazily over my shoulder, he bent down and kissed me lightly on the lips.

"Mornin'."

"Mornin'."

As he slid onto the seat next to me, Rachel took one look at him and started sniggering again. With his most mock-serious expression, he stage-whispered to me:

"Don't ever take your eyes off her, man. She's the devil."

"Yes. Yes she is." Neither of us wwas quite joking. I love Rachel and all, but she has a dark side not to be messed with. For now, she just smiled, enjoying her little reign of terror. Then something seemed to strike her, and she sat back down with a more serious expression.

"Tonight's the night, isn't it? Are you still going to go through with it?"

We glanced at each other to make sure, and then I nodded for both of us. Sometimes you don't need words.

"Yeah, we're sure. It's been too long already. They should know."

Because this was, so far, the biggest hitch in our relationship, and possibly the reason why I was finding it so hard to think of Eric as my boyfriend. Aside from Rachel, none of our friends knew a thing. And I know it sounds a little weird, keeping something so huge from them for so long, but there was never a right time. First Shawn was off on that stupid road trip, then there was Joshua's premature birth, then Cory and Topanga went into overdrive with the wedding plans – there just hadn't been a good moment to sit them all down and take them through it.

"So run me through the plan again. You've told them…what, movie night?"

"Exactly. Something to give us all a chance to hang out, which we haven't done nearly enough of lately."

"And are you gonna tell everyone at once or what?"

"No, we've got it all worked out," Eric chipped in. From the look on Rachel's face, this didn't fill her with confidence, and I couldn't blame her – Eric's plans tend to fit into the "hare-brained scheme" category. It had taken me a week to bargain him down from his original idea, which involved a sky-writer and pretending to burn the building to the ground (don't ask), to the current one, which was a lot simpler.

"We're going to split them up, make it more personal, try and ease the shock value. Shawn's getting here a little early – I told him I needed to talk to him, brother-to-brother."

"We're thinking he'll take it easy enough. I mean, of everything he's gone through over the past few months, this is hardly going to register on the radar." As Eric said this, his hand tightened on my shoulder and I gave a slight rub of his leg to let him know that I appreciated the gesture of support. The last few months hadn't been easy on me either.

"Then when the other three get here, he talks to Angela while we take Cory and Topanga." We had known from the start that separating the two of them would be next to impossible.

"Ok then," said Rachel. "And while all this is going on, I'm…" she trailed off, leaving us to fill in the blank.

"Staying out of the way," Eric offered. She shot him a look, and he stuck out his tongue in return. Normally I'd have joined in by flicking cereal at her or whatever, but I was way too nervous about this already. Thank god I had class all day, or I'd have sat around the apartment driving myself nuts – this way, I could spend the day napping and come home refreshed. By the time I stopped dwelling in my own head and tuned back in to the conversation, Eric was explaining Rachel's role to her.

"…with the dips and run interference if we need it."

"OK, translate into something less sports-related."

"If things are going badly, you swoop in and get people out of the way. Offer to, I dunno, show them the laundry room or something."

"The laundry room? Eric, that's the dumbest idea I've ever heard, and I've lived with you for 6 months now."

"Oh c'mon, that's just not true. I've had _way_ dumber ideas than that. I mean, I used to want to date you."

"I've gotta go shower or I'll be late for class," I said, standing abruptly and cutting off the argument that, judging from the near-fury on Rachel's face, was about 10 seconds away. As I began to walk away, Eric caught my hand and pulled me down for a brief kiss.

"I'll be gone by the time you're out, so I'm saying goodbye now," he offered by way of explanation – this was one of the few days when our schedule was different, and his classes started…actually, about 5 minutes ago – and added in a low voice, "Love ya."

"Love ya too," I murmured back, appreciating the gesture – we're not exactly a mushy, Harlequin couple with breathtaking declarations of love on an hourly basis, so when we say it, it means something. Right now, I knew he was telling me that we'd be there for each other tonight, and support each other no matter what, and that meant a lot to me. Knowing that I have Eric, that I'll always have him…it makes things easier.

As I closed the door behind myself into the bathroom, the last snatches of Rachel and Eric's conversation drifted up after me.

"Don't even _think_ about it. My god, all men are just…nngh!"


	2. A Little Discourage

Series Title: Transformation

Summary: The Most Awkward Conversation You'll Ever Have, part the first.

Series/Sequel: 2/4

Warnings: Slash. Vague hints of sappiness.

Rating: M, I guess.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. I think this is theoretically legal on the grounds that I'm making no money; it's practically safe because I have no money to give them anyway. So…yay?

A/N: So. It's been, like, 4 years. I have no excuse, just a reason – Real Life got crazy. Sadly, it's nothing more or less than that. Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far and asked for a continuation – sorry it's been so slow in coming. Oh, and SoBlonde was right – "nngh" is just Rachel lacking the words to describe how stupid men are and settling for a little disgusted groan.

Warning: Unbeta-ed. I tried to use this site's beta reader link-up thing and kept finding profiles that either specified "no slash" or were full of grammatical mistakes, so I gave up. If you catch any mistakes, please let me know; if you'd be up for beta-ing future installments (and there will be future installments, very soon), then send me a message. I'm more than happy to beta stuff in return.

Chapter 2: A Little Discourage

_Eric:_

7:02. In theory, two minutes after Shawn was supposed be here. In practice, about eight minutes before he'll actually be arriving. Shawn has very little concept of meeting times, or deadlines, or constraints in general. Once you learn to work around him, it stops being annoying; we had taken his inevitable tardiness into account when planning things, so there's still 58 minutes until Angela, Topanga and Cory will be arriving – Jack told Shawn that he needed to get here early so they could have "a brother talk". Actually, make that 57 minutes. With girls involved, there's a much higher chance of the time you tell them to come at actually being the time they arrive. And damn, I'm not normally this obsessed with time. Under ordinary circumstances, I make Shawn look punctual, but tonight isn't even in the same county as "ordinary circumstances". Take the fact that I'm actually cooking – well, chopping vegetables to put in a salad to go with the pizza we're going to be ordering later. If we were in "ordinary circumstances" land, I'd be lying on the couch right about now, but I'm too twitchy. I need to be doing something, because otherwise I'll go completely crazy. Well, crazier. 7.05. Five minutes late. 55 left. I'm never going to make it through tonight.

Crap. Double crap. Treble quadruple quintuple whatever the hell else there is crap. It seems like it should be so simple. It's five words – "Jack and I are dating" – and yet those five words will completely and utterly alter the way they look at the two of us forever. And that's what makes it so weird, and so hard. It's not yelling or screaming or blind hatred that I'm afraid of, it's the subtle looks and whispers, the silent and not-so-silent judgement. It's that my friends won't see that it's still the real me, that I'm still exactly the same person they thought I was, just with a shiny new boyfriend. Which is why I'm dicing peppers like I've never diced before in a desperate bid to Zen out a little, except the Zen? Not really coming to me.

It could be worse. At least I don't feel as bad as Jack looks – he's sitting on the couch, almost catatonic, looking like he's about to chew off his bottom lip. Our eyes meet and we don't need to say anything – each of us knows exactly what the other one is going through. He drew the short straw in having to take the worst of it first, but an hour after his brother gets here mine will be strolling through the door, expecting pizza, popcorn and a quiet evening in, instead of the pizza, popcorn and life-changing revelations he's actually going to get.

"Maybe it won't be that bad," offers Rachel from her perch on the counter, though the fact that she's already started into the wine makes me think she's preparing herself for the risk of a long, messy night. I'd say something in response, but Jack's withering stare pretty much has it covered.

"C'mon – I took it fine, didn't I?"

This time I take the lead. "Oh, sure. You ran out of the apartment crying, slept on Angela's floor for a week and now you're moving out, but yeah, aside from that, you were totally peachy." Man, I can be slightly bitter when I'm stressed.

"OK, fine," she sighs. "So I didn't react as brilliantly as I could have. And maybe they won't either. Maybe it _will_ be that bad. Maybe it'll utterly suck. But at least it'll be over, right?"

And to be fair, she has a point.

"She has a point," Jack says to me. Whoa, spooky.

"It has been a month," I manage to say around the giant lump that's building in my throat. Because seriously, since all this happened, we've been hanging with the group less, avoiding talking to each other too much when we're all together and generally stressing over what might happen when we finally tell them. At this point, even if they all freak out, it'll be a relief to not have to lie to them any more.

"Exactly!" says Rachel, always happiest when she's being right. "C'mon – put down the knife, have a beer, de-stress for a minute and just focus on not looking like a pair of sweaty, crazed maniacs when they do get here." Even as she's saying this, she opens two beers, steers me towards the couch, sits me down and hands us both our bottles. Rachel's going to make a great mom. Scary, but great.

"Hey, did I tell you both about this jerk in my Pol Sci class? Oh man, you wouldn't *believe* what he..." OK, so her attempts to distract us aren't exactly subtle, but it's a nice gesture, and it is easier to half-listen to her random story and murmur supportively at the right moments than to dwell in utter silence. I take a healthy swig of my beer, and then another, and try to focus my mind anywhere but what's about to happen, letting Rachel's voice become a pleasant background hum. After a moment, I find myself absently stroking Jack's knee, and this is what solidifies it all in my mind – we *have* to tell them. For one thing, it's ridiculous to keep something this important from our friends. For another, someday we're going to do something stupid or couple-y around them and they're going to find out that way – however bad this way is, at least we're being honest with them. With this firmly in my mind, I tune into Rachel properly and we pass the next few minutes with small-talk while Jack keeps staring ahead like a man facing execution. I'm almost reaching a calm little place inside when –

*knock knock*

"AAAIIEEE!!" Yeesh. My screams can be girly sometimes.

"De-stress, remember?" Rachel hisses at me, shoving Jack towards the door. He plasters on the closest he can get to a smile right now and opens it, and the smile falters for just a second as he greets our guests.

"Shawn! And Angela! You're here! Both of you!"

He turns towards me, clearly freaking out internally, and starting to lose his stoic outside-face.

"Yeah." Shawn doesn't even seem to notice how frantic Jack is as he waves the two of them in. "I ran into Angela over at the Student Union, she was just killing time before coming over here, so I figured we might as well both come over early."

"It's not a problem, is it?" Angela asks, picking up on the weirdness. "I mean, I can come back later if you guys need-"

"No, no, it's fine! Totally fine," Rachel cuts her off, sounding far more even than either me or Jack are right now. "Sit down, make yourselves comfortable."

As they sit warily on the couch, we half-run across the room for a mini-conference.

"They're both here!"

"I know! I can see that!"

"What do we do? This wasn't part of the plan. We're 10 seconds into the evening and the plan is already messed up! What do we do?!" OK, so I'm overreacting a bit. Can you blame me? I'm more than a little nervous already, and having a spanner thrown in the works, no matter how minor, is messing with my head. Damn Shawn and his 'But of course we have to stay friends!' thing with Angela. Why couldn't they just not talk to each other like every normal broken-up couple?

"It's OK. It'll still be fine," Rachel cuts in, ever the voice of reason. "Jack, take Shawn outside to the balcony. Eric, you can keep Angela distracted in here. I'm going to bail for the next 20 minutes, and then we just go on like before."

Feeling almost like we should be yelling "Go team!", we break and move back towards the couch.

"Shawn, about that thing…"

"Oh, yeah, that." Shawn sounds kinda surprised, like he had barely remembered. "What's up?"

"Maybe we could talk outside?" Jack nods towards the French doors and Shawn follows him out, exchanging a look with Angela that I can't quite read.

"And I've gotta go too – I completely forgot to pick up the vinaigrette this afternoon, so I'm just gonna run to the store on the corner. Bye!" The door is already closing after Rachel by the time she's finished speaking. Well damn. Can't say I blame her for making a quick exit, but when she says 'bail' she really isn't kidding.

Shaking off the urge to listen, I head to the fridge; partially because I'm meant to be doing my 'hostess with the mostess' schtick, mostly because I really need another beer.

"You want something to drink?" I call over my shoulder, rooting through the mess that is our refrigerator. "We've got wine, beer and, ooh, some random purple sludge that Rachel hasn't thrown out yet."

Angela smiles indulgently. "Tempting as the purple sludge sounds, I think I'll stick with wine, thanks."

She stand up and moves over to the kitchen island as I pour her wine and open a second beer for myself. As she starts to drink, I move back towards the vegetables, twitchy again. In the moment of silence, I realise I can just about hear voices coming from the balcony – not enough to actually make out words, but enough to hear tones, and so far they seem pretty lowered, which is...good, right? Right?

"So, how's Rachel's apartment hunt going? She never did tell us why exactly she moved out."

"Oh, it's fine, I think," I reply, distracted by the view out the French doors. Dammit! I can see the back of Jack's head, but the door handle is blocking my view of Shawn. Angela steps in to help me, tearing up a head of lettuce as I move on to the tomatoes.

"And how's Cory? I've barely seen Topanga lately, she's been so busy with the wedding plans. God, you'd think it was next week and not next year."

"Mmm-hmm. That's Topanga. Control freak to the end."

There's another beat before she starts again. "Are you OK?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, never better."

"Hmph. Well, you're acting kinda strange; I mean, more so than normal. All of you are, in fact."

"Mmm-hmm." I finish the last of the tomatoes and pick up the chopping board to pour them into the salad bowl, barely listening to a word she's saying. OK, so at this point I'm being downright rude. But seriously, I can almost hear words, and if she'd just enjoy the silence for a second or two...

"For what it's worth, I don't think Shawn will mind if you and Jack are dating."

"Yeah, that's – WHAT?" I spin so fast that three tomatoes worth of chunks fly off the board, across the kitchen and splatter against the wall. She raises a single judging eyebrow, picks up her wine glass and takes a sip as I gasp and gape. How the hell did she do that? Can she see into my head? Can she hear me right now?

"Witch! WITCH!!" Well, it seems like the most plausible explanation. She just sighs, and waits for me to put down the knife (which, OK, I may have waved my knife at her a little bit. For protection, you know?) and stop pointing at her before continuing.

"Oh please. Eric, you guys aren't exactly masters of stealth. A few weeks back Rachel spent five nights on the floor in my dorm room, and since then, we've hardly seen any of you and when we do, you're all secretive and weird. Then Jack asks Shawn to come over early for some brotherly bonding – it doesn't take a genius to figure out where this was going."

On the face of it that seems reasonable, but... "Wait. Rewind. How the hell did you jump from 'They're all hiding something' to 'Eric and Jack are dating'? I mean, it could have been a million things."

At this, she looks slightly less comfortable. "Well, I kinda had an idea before, ya know? Nothing too solid – it was more like-"

At this point she's cut off, as Shawn's voice from the balcony finally gets loud enough to hear.

"Eric and Jack, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-" There's a sudden crash. "OW!! Leggo my leg, you psycho!"

Angela's eyes go wide and she looks stunned for a second before bursting out laughing. I look up in time to see Jack and Shawn wrestling on the ground – Jack seems to have the upper hand, but mainly because Shawn's laughing too hard to fight back properly. Angela and I rush to the balcony, where Jack finally has Shawn pinned. He looks pissed, silently fuming as Shawn tries to catch his breath again. As he sees us, he greets me with a big grin and a nod.

"Eric," he chokes out, before dissolving into laughter again.

"He knew?" I ask flatly, already knowing the answer.

"He knew," Jack deadpans back, standing up and freeing Shawn.

"So did she," I say, as I nod towards Angela, who's looking down at Shawn with something between love and disgust. Pretty much the norm for them.

"You knew?!" says Jack, turning his attention back to Shawn, and not seeming particularly happy. "You knew and you let me keep going? Do you have *any* idea how embarrassing all that was?"

"Pretty much," Shawn laughs, pushing Jack off, standing up and rubbing his arm with a slight wince. "And of course I knew – well, I had an idea at least. I lived with you two for a year, I'm not a complete moron."

"Oh, please!" Angela rolls her eyes at this, which seems fair. Shawn is often a complete moron. "You had no idea at all until I asked you about the two of them. And even then you told me I was nuts!"

Shawn's guilty look confirms this, and we turn back to Angela. Jack gets there first with the three most obvious questions.

"What? How? What?" OK, so he's spluttering a little, but his point is clear.

"I'm a good guesser. I wasn't even sure until your freak-out with the tomatoes," as she nods at me, "which, by the way, I'm going to go try and salvage now." She walks back down into the kitchen with the three of us following her, Jack getting in a quick punch on Shawn's shoulder as we go. Angela picks up the chopping board and starts picking out the tomatoes that didn't splatter too badly against the wall as the rest of us gather around her, waiting for her to continue. I break first.

"Ok, so…back up a bit. A good guesser? Guessing from what, exactly?"

She sighs and puts the board down, settling into story mode. "It was about a year ago. Right after Cory and Topanga tried to elope, and we were having that retirement party for Mr. Feeny. You burst in doing…God, I can't even remember what. Yelling or screaming or doing something Eric." I love that my name is now a synonym for 'weird' among my friends. I should bitch about it, but really, not the issue right now.

"Most people were looking at you like you were completely nuts, but Jack…well, he was also looking at you like you were nuts, but there was something more to it than that. He had this funny smile, like, 'That's my Eric', and it caught my attention. It wasn't anything huge, but I still didn't know either of you two that well, so I was curious about you both. So I talked to Shawn – subtly!" she throws in, seeing both our horrified looks. The idea of my friends talking about this before I talked to Jack feels weird.

"Don't worry, guys. I didn't just randomly ask him 'So, do you think your brother and your roommate might be sleeping together?', I just mentioned that you two seemed close. And then steered the conversation in the direction I wanted it to go. And Shawn thought I was being crazy, so I didn't think anything more about it, until Rachel spent a week sleeping on my floor and you two had a big movie night out of nowhere and it all suddenly fit together in my head."

We're both silent for a second as we take this in.

"You're good."

She smiles and picks up the wine she abandoned earlier. "Damn straight. No pun intended."

I snicker even though it's not that funny – mostly, I'm just relieved. One down, and one positive. Hell, that's a good start. OK, Angela isn't the one I was most worried about, but it's nice to have her on our side.

"What about you?" Jack asks, turning to Shawn, who's still smirking.

"OK, so I wasn't entirely truthful before," he starts, before Angela cuts him off with a derisive snort. "And I owe you an apology, Angela. I did think you were crazy at first, but over the next while I started looking at them both slightly differently," he continues, indicating towards the two of us. "And what you were saying started to make sense."

"Not that you bothered telling me that."

"Well, no – I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. Then when I heard about Rachel moving out, and you guys inviting everyone over in waves tonight, I figured this was what was coming." He turns away from us and focuses on Angela. "I'm sorry for not saying anything to you, but I thought it'd be much worse if I was wrong, so I'd keep quiet until I was sure."

She gives a slight nod of her head and looks slightly less pissed, but there's a whole lot going on under the surface there that I don't even want to start getting into, most of which has very little to do with what Shawn told her about the two of us and a whole lot to do with the two of them. At least she seems calmer, though – Jack is still tensed.

"So…you're cool with this then?"

Shawn smiles. "Honestly? At first, I was kinda freaked out. I mean, not in a bad way, just that it seemed…really weird, ya know?" And yeah, to be fair, I really do know. "But it's had time to grow on me, and yeah, I'm cool with it. Not that it's not still weird, but c'mon Jack, you're my brother. You might piss me off a lot of the time, but we're family, and I wouldn't let something as stupid as who you date get in the way of that."

Aww. I can feel my icy heart melting. But Jack seems to visibly de-clench, and as he moves forward to pull Shawn into a hug I can feel part of my own tension lifting too. OK, so the worst part for me may not be over yet, but at least Jack is making it through this more-or-less unscathed. He and Shawn break apart and I can't help but smile at the look of relief on his face. He hugs me too, and over his shoulder I see Shawn snickering again. "I think I'm only going to call you 'Jack's Boyfriend' from now on. That alright with you, Jack's Boyfriend?"

"Count of three," Jack whispers in my ear. "I'll get his arms, you get his legs. One…two…three!"

Half down, half to go. But as we pin Shawn to the floor, ignoring his yells for mercy, as Angela smirks and lets him take it as punishment for lying to her, it occurs to me that half isn't a bad start at all.


	3. Tell Me Ten Words

Series Title: Variance

Summary: The Most Awkward Conversation You'll Ever Have, part the second.

Series/Sequel: 3/4

Warnings: Slash.

Rating: M? That may be over-shooting it, but better too high than too low.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Celebrating the new year with an update. Cause sure why not! Any apology for the lateness is going to sound hollow, but I just want to say thanks for the reviews and compliments and follows, I genuinely do appreciate it, and I really do hate being one of 'those' posters who leaves stuff hanging for years at a time. Still waiting on someone to guess the theme of chapter titles, incidentally!

* * *

**Chapter 3: Tell Me Ten Words**

**Jack:**

It's impossible to describe it. It literally feels like someone lifted a giant block of stone off my chest and now I can breathe again. So many times over the past month I've imagined that conversation, and while I wasn't exactly *expecting* the worst, there was always a risk of it happening. Depressing though it is to think it, I don't actually know Shawn all that well. Even in the year and a bit we've spent getting to know each other, we've found more differences than common ground, and it's not exactly like we ever sat down and chatted about our opinions over same-sex relationships in all that time. Actually, to be fair, I don't think that's something we would have done even if we *had* grown up together. And I know we try to get along, and at the end of it all, we're brothers and we have that unshakeable familial love for each other. That still didn't mean he was going to turn out to be totally fine with it. And yet…

"Look, Shawn, there's something we need to talk about. Something I have to tell you. And I don't want you to think that this is something that I've been keeping from you for too long, because it really isn't…I mean, I only realised a month ago…I mean, not that there was anything to realise before then…I mean…I just…look, this is really hard to say, and I have no idea how you're going to take it, but I'm…we're…me and Eric, we're…together. Like, together together. Like, a couple."

His eyes were resting on the ground just in front of me, and for that moment, his face was completely impassive. Looking back now, I realise he's just a brilliant actor when he wants to be; at the time, it felt like my stomach was going to drop through my feet and plunge onto the balcony below ours. Then he slowly looked up, a smile starting to spread across his face.

"Together? Like, together together? Like, with kissing and stuff? Like, 'Eric and Jack, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-OW!" Because right about there was the point where I launched myself at him and started trying to tear off his leg with my bare hands.

A few minutes later we were back out on the balcony, having agreed that we should at least try for a Deep Meaningful Conversation that doesn't end in wrestling, talking the whole thing over properly while Eric and Angela worked on salad inside and talked about God-knows-what. A part of my mind is telling me that they're comparing the sexual techniques of the Hunter men. Another part of my mind is screaming at that part of my mind to shutupshutupshutup. A third part is worried about the fact that my mind is now having conversations with itself.

"What I don't get is how everyone seemed to see this coming but me. Would it have been that hard for someone to sit me down and tell me?"

"Would you have believed us?"

"…probably not. Do you think Cory and Topanga know as well? 'Cause that would make things a whole lot easier."

"Sorry Jack, but I don't think they do. One of them two of 'em would have said something to me or Angela by now – they're completely incapable of keeping secrets, from anyone."

"Crap. Do you think they'll take it well, at least?"

"Hard to say. Topanga should be fine – if you guys were clubbing baby seals in your spare time, she might have a problem, but I can't see this phasing her. Cory…less positive. You know how he feels about change, and things that weren't around in the 50s."

"He's against them?"

"Pretty much."

A door slammed down in the apartment, and almost by unspoken agreement, we turned to go back inside. Grabbing his shoulder quickly, I casually said, "Hey Shawn? Good talk."

He smiled back at me. "Yeah. It was."

And as quickly as Nice Shawn appeared, Evil Shawn took his place as he stepped back into the apartment and called down to Rachel, who had clearly given up on subtly staying out of the way, "So, Rachel. We hear you turned your roommates gay."

She smiled, clearly guessing that it had gone pretty well. "I dunno, Shawn. Seems like they were already pretty gay when I moved in. Maybe we should blame this one on you?"

"Hey, at least they weren't having a contest over who could have sex with me first. That I know of…"

Me and Eric looked at each other from across the room, and replied with matching "Ew"s. Rachel, however, was well on top of a comeback.

"That's true actually; Eric *didn't* want to sleep with you. So Shawn, how does it feel to be the less hot brother? Inferior? 'Cause I'll bet it feels inferior."

She strolled over to the kitchen to pick up her wine, slowing on her way to high-five a cackling Angela, while Shawn struggled to come up with something funny to say in response, eventually giving up and tipping an imaginary hat to her.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Angela. "Cory and Topanga will be here any minute. Should we be vacating the premises, or at least hiding on the balcony or something?"

"I guess the balcony?" I said. "We were planning on sending you away with Shawn so he could tell you while we told Cory and Topanga. Y'know, splitting them up not being an option."

"I was going to hide again!" Rachel offered perkily. "It seemed like the least awkward option."

Something occurred to me. "Weren't you meant to be running interference? In case of emergency?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, but that sounded both difficult and embarrassing. And, um, of course I had total faith that you guys could handle it?" she said, looking sheepish as she quickly added the second part. Damn her to hell.

"Wait, I wasn't getting told personally? The others all got proper conversations and I got *Shawn*?"

"Angela." Shawn cut across her warningly.

"Right, right, sorry, not the time." She stayed silent for about a second and a half. "*Seriously*?"

I considered for a moment whether to go the "grovelling apology" route or the "dude, when *you* have a coming-out-pizza-party you can tell us all however the hell you like" route, but the decision was taken out of my hands by a knock on the door.

"OK, c'mon, balcony, quickly!" Rachel started ushering, but Eric waved at her to stop.

"Guys, guys, it's OK! I've got this! You can stay, I know what I'm doing."

It was about this point that I started to get the feeling things might go horribly wrong. It's not like we had discussed in massive detail the exact conversation that he planned on having with them – that would just have been too weird – but he had The Look in his eyes. The one he gets when he has 'brilliant ideas'. The one that, almost without fail, leads to disaster. And God help me, a bit of me loves The Look – life would be pretty damn boring without it – but this did *not* seem like the time for improv.

"Eric, man, are you totally sure that you-"

"I'm sure, Jacky," he said, eyes gleaming as he strode across the room to answer the door. The other three stood stock still, transfixed by Eric's sudden mania. The Look has a power like that; no matter how much you might want to, you really can't turn away.

Eric flung open the door, revealing Cory and Topanga holding a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates respectively. Poor them. They looked so serene, so normal, so totally unaware. Oh man.

"Hi guys!" Topanga said brightly. "Sorry we're a bit early, but-"

"Cory! Topanga!" Eric cut her off. "Jack is my boyfriend now and we're in love! And I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner, but that seems so unimportant now, given that this is great news, right? Hug it out?" And with a big smile, he threw his arms open wide, standing expectantly, waiting for whichever of them was quicker to jump into them. Oh *man*.

Cory and Topanga did not throw their arms open wide. Cory and Topanga did not hug Eric. Cory and Topanga looked very much like someone had just thrown a bucket of ice water over them. Shawn, Rachel and Angela looked varying degrees of the same – Shawn looked like a bit of him wanted to laugh, but he was holding it back for decorum's sake, Angela looked the most apprehensive, Rachel looked like she was wishing that she had bailed for *this* portion of the evening instead, but all of them had a shared frozen horror, like people watching a car crash in slow motion. I don't even want to think of what kind of cringe-y grimace I must have had on my face.

After a second or two, Topanga, still looking stunned, leaned slightly towards Cory and murmured, "I told you that finding that eggplant that looked like Jimmy Carter wasn't gonna be the weirdest thing to happen all day."

Eric's cheeriness began to slip a little. His arms lowered. "Cory?"

Cory, still unblinking, spoke as if he was having trouble moving his jaw. "Great. That's great. I'm just…I've just gotta…" And with that, he swung around and walked away.

"Cory, wait! Cory!" Topanga called after him, his movement having broken her out of her own freeze. She didn't follow though, instead turning back to Eric looking stricken.

Eric didn't move to follow him either. He just stared after his rapidly-retreating little brother, looking like someone had just punched him right in the gut. Which I guess, in a way, Cory kinda had. I started to move towards him, but Topanga beat me to it.

"I'm sorry, he just – we just – oh, I don't know. Eric, c'mere!" And she launched forward and grabbed Eric in a bear hug. After a moment, he relaxed a little and hugged her back.

"It's just a surprise, is all," she explained as they broke apart. "But I'm really happy for you, for both of you, and Cory will be too once he calms down a little, I'm sure of it."

At this stage I had moved across the room and had a comforting hand on Eric's shoulder. I could tell from his tenseness, though, that it wasn't helping much. Neither was Topanga, who still looked caught between chasing Cory down and, hopefully, slapping some sense into him, and staying to smooth things over with us.

"You're sure you're OK though?" I asked, warily. Suspicious, maybe, but if Cory was going to freak out, I wanted to be absolutely sure we'd have everyone else on our side to help bring him around.

"Oh please. My parents named me Topanga – they're not exactly mainstream, and neither are their friends. I have a lesbian 'aunt', two gay 'uncles' and a bisexual transgender 'godparent'. This is hardly new to me."

Hard to argue with that. The shock seemed to be wearing off the other three too, and they moved towards the door as well.

"I can't believe he just left," Shawn said, looking personally offended. "I thought we trained him better than that," he added, addressing this last part to Topanga.

"What are we going to do?" asked Angela. "Do we…should we go after him?"

"Maybe we should give him a minute?" offered Rachel. "I know my immediate reaction wasn't great. Time could help?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, not with Cory – he'll tailspin. The longer we give him to work himself into craziness the harder it'll be to snap him out of it. We need to find him quickly."

"Yeah, but…" Angela glanced at Eric, who was still looking a bit shellshocked. "…are we sure we're ready to talk him down right now? Maybe we should just take a minute and calm down ourselves?"

Seeing the group in momentary confusion seemed to snap Topanga fully back to herself. "OK. We need to get Cory back here, and we need to slap some sense into him," she said, in a tone that invited no disagreement, or so much as questioning. A murmur of assent ran through the rest of us. "He didn't take the elevator, so he could still be in the building. He's probably just wandering around in a daze. Shawn and Angela, check the floors above us. Jack and Eric, you work your way down. Rachel, stay here in case he comes back before we find him. I'm gonna get the elevator and check outside in case he made it out already. If you don't find him, meet back here in 20 minutes. OK?"

A chorus of agreement echoed back and we all moved out, newly energised. I swear, if that girl ever decides to take over the world, we're all in trouble. At the stairwell, we split off from Shawn and Angela.

"It'll be OK. He'll be OK," Shawn said, but his worried look and Angela's silence didn't exactly feel encouraging. I nodded back at him and we made our way down the stairs. Eric still hadn't said a word since Cory left. When I heard Shawn and Angela leave the stairwell a level above our apartment, I grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. He didn't look at me properly at first, staring at the ground and shifting slightly from foot to foot, twitching with nervous energy.

"You alright?" I tried to keep the question as light as possible, not wanting to drag him down if he wasn't ready to process it properly yet, but equally wanting him to be ready if we did manage to find Cory.

After a moment, he met my eye.

"I guess that wasn't the right way to tell them, huh?"

I felt myself deflate a little. OK, so he was capable of speech. Good sign. I tried to keep the judgement in my voice to a minimum.

"No. I guess not. Eric, look, you know I'm on your side, but don't you think it was a little…blunt? Or a lot blunt? I mean, man, what were you thinking?" OK, that sounds harsh, but it was said with love. And with a genuine desire to know what on the sweet Earth was going through his mind.

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah. I just-" his voice caught a little, "-I just saw how fine with it Shawn was and I thought…I just wanted to think that Cory would be the same. I just wanted it to be over with. Y'know?"

I squeezed his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Crap. This was the part where being a boyfriend is harder than being a best friend. Best friends can lie to each other. Hell, best friends are *expected* to lie. 'You look good in that outfit', 'You're better off without her', all that kind of stuff. The bigging-them-up lies. The kind of lies it's harder to tell to someone who's seen you naked. And there are 'couple' lies too, but they're generally just about the two of you. 'No, I don't mind your godawful singing in the shower every morning' or 'No, you don't snore or fart or drool or do anything at all unattractive while you sleep'. The kind of lies they're willing to believe for the good of the relationship. Telling someone that their brother won't hate them or shun them because they're gay, unfortunately, falls very definitely into the first category. When someone knows you well enough to know when you're lying, the first kind gets way, way harder to tell.

And so I couldn't lie to him. I couldn't tell him Cory would be OK with it. I didn't know Cory anywhere *near* well enough to make that kind of statement, and worse, if I did and I was wrong, then I'd forever be the jackass who tried to downplay what could be one of the worst things that will ever happen to him. But what could I do instead? What kind of loser boyfriend couldn't even find something comforting to say at a time like this?

After a wordless moment where I frantically tried to think of something, anything to say, he seemed to sense that I was done and started to move again, but I pulled him back.

"Eric?"

"Yeah?" Not quite impatience, but a definite shortness in his voice, ready for a platitude and ready to politely ignore it.

"You're the bravest person I know. I will never, ever stop being amazed by you." If you can't lie, then be honest.

His face softened – not quite a smile, but a bit of the panic left his eyes, his shoulders seemed to un-hunch a little and he squeezed my hand back.

"C'mon. Let's go find him." And looking much more ready than he had a minute earlier, he started to pull me down the stairs again.

As we hit the level below our apartment I tried to stop, but he pulled me on.

"Hang on! Eric, shouldn't we check all the floors?"

He shook his head, dragging me past the door and on downwards.

"Nope. Basement. He'll be in the basement."

"The basement? How do you know?"

He smiled slightly. "Trust me."

We nearly ran down the next few flights of stairs, and within a minute we were at the entrance to our basement – our dank, smelly communal laundry room. He opened the door and led the way in and, sure enough, sitting cross-legged on the counter was Cory.

"Well that was quick." There was an edge to Cory's voice. He didn't look disgusted, which was a start, and he wasn't trying to leave again, which was also good, but he also had a kind of mutinous, mulish look on his face that suggested this wasn't going to be a fun conversation.

"So we didn't get a chance to talk before, what with you running away and all." There was an edge to Eric's voice too. Sensing that this might be more of a siblings-only conversation, I leaned a bit closer to Eric.

"Should I give you guys a minute? Or five? Ten? I can pretty much just go back upstairs if you'd prefer."

"No. This involves you too." The change in Eric's demeanour from just five minutes earlier was astonishing. Lapsing automatically into older brother mode, he was completely in control and ready to smack Cory around a little. Figuratively, I hoped. As Eric spoke, Cory looked up properly, and the front of anger seemed to crack a little.

"Eric…"

"Look, Cory. I was kinda blunt upstairs. But you need to hear this. And like it or not, you need to accept it."

"Oh, of course!" Cory snapped back. He jumped off the counter and started pacing nervously, spitting out his next few words. "This is all on me. You drop something life-altering on me and I'm the one who has to adjust right away."

Eric shrugged. "Pretty much. I know it's big. Man, it's huge. But y'know, in some ways, it's kinda not. I'm still the same person. I'm still me."

Cory looked at him sceptically. "Are you though? I mean, you're…you're *Eric*. Girl-crazy Eric. Half of the conversations we had from when I was 10 onwards were about girls. Was that…was all of that made-up?"

Eric shook his head. "No. No, Cory, it wasn't. For one thing, I'm pretty sure I'm bi. I still like girls. None of that was a lie, this is just…extra, I guess. And for another thing, all of that stuff, it was never *about* the girls, or the advice, or the teasing, or the insults. It was about us. That was just…how we talked. You're my brother. If you had wanted to learn about stamp collections, I'd have talked to you about stamp collections, ya know? I'd talk to you about anything."

Cory stopped pacing and stared at Eric plaintively. "But Eric…this is just…it's such a huge change. It's so much. So much of everything else has been changing lately – mom and dad have Josh now, Morgan's growing so quickly, college, me and Topanga – I just thought I could always count on you being *you*." He was almost pleading at this point.

Eric considered this for a moment. "You still can. I'll always be me. Cory, how long did it take me to find you."

Cory shrugged petulantly. "I dunno. About two minutes?" He thought about this for a moment. "Actually, yeah. How did you know where I was?"

Eric smiled a little. "Remember when you ran away from home when you were 7 because mom wouldn't let you have dessert?"

Cory smiled a little in return. "Yeah. It was a bum rap – I definitely ate enough broccoli to deserve cake!"

"Just about any other kid would try to escape –get as far as they could. But not you."

"Not you either," countered Cory. "You hid on the roof for three hours when. Mom and dad had called the cops before they figured out where you were."

Eric snickered to himself. "Good times," he said, eyes slipping off Cory for a moment as he reminisced, but a second later he was back on track. "You, on the other hand, hid in the basement." Cory nodded sheepishly and Eric continued. "Because that's who you are. When things get scary, you look for what's familiar. And that's one of the things that makes you so great – you care more about your family and friends than anyone else I know. You'd die for us. But it also makes you so, so scared of anything changing."

Cory considered this for a few seconds, then nodded slowly.

"I get it, I really do," Eric continued. "But I'm still here. I'm still me. I'm still one of the few people who'd know to look for you down here. I still love you – that much will never change. Can you say the same about me?"

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Cory stared at Eric, his face inscrutable. Then, in one smooth movement, he strode across the room, threw his arms around Eric and pulled him in for a giant hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm a moron. Just ask Topanga, she'll tell you. I'm sorry."

Eric just squeezed him closer and smiled. When they broke apart, I stepped forward. I had been staying silent – watching such a private conversation was awkward as hell, of course, but Eric wanted me to stay, so there I had stood, trying to blend into the wall as much as possible. Now, though, I offered what I hoped was a suitably boyfriend-of-the-brother-ly handshake, only to find myself with 150 pounds of Cory throwing itself around my neck in a bear-hug of my very own.

"Aw, Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. Welcome to the family!"

I'll say this for Cory, he's a man of convictions, even if those convictions can be crazy and changeable.

* * *

By the time the three of us trooped back through the door of the apartment, the others had all given up on their respective searching areas and gathered back there. When we came in, they were sitting around the kitchen island looking worried; the outbreak of relief when they saw all of us together, with Cory and Eric smiling and looking relaxed, was palpable. Only Topanga looked relatively serene – she and Eric shared a nod, and after a moment I realised. 'One of the few people'.

"She knew he'd be down there?" I whispered, as Shawn came over to hug, punch and hug Cory, adding a quiet "Idiot!" at the middle one of those.

Eric smiled. "Yeah, I guess she did. And she thought it'd be best for me to be the first to find him. And she thought it'd be good if you were there too." He turned slightly to meet my eyes. "She was right. It was. And thank you."

I just smiled back. I wasn't sure I could form words right then. The adrenaline that came from the fear of telling everyone was starting to fade. They were OK. It was all OK. And right now, I just wanted to slump on a couch with my awesome, crazy, immature, sweet-as-all-hell boyfriend, watch a movie and enjoy a brief chunk of peace.


	4. Stay The Same

Series Title: Variance

Summary: The Most Awkward Conversation You'll Ever Have, the aftermath.

Series/Sequel: 4/4

Warnings: Slash.

Rating: M? That may be over-shooting it, but better too high than too low.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. To be fair, it's been over a decade. I reckon they're fair game at this point.

A/N: Two updates at once. Madness, right? This closes this story (except for the "outtakes" chapter, which is next); there's a part 3 to the series in the works, but don't hold out hope, it'll be comparatively short and could be a while in coming. Once again, thanks for the lovely feedback and comments, really appreciate it all! Cookies for people who know what movie they're watching! :D (It's even '90s appropriate!)

* * *

**Chapter 4: Stay The Same**

**Eric:**

And so, after a brief detour, the night ends up back on track. Within two minutes of Cory being dragged back we've come to a sort of unspoken collective agreement to just gloss over it. I mean, yeah, he was a bit of a jackass, but it's not like the rest of us don't have our own moments of spectacular jackassery from time to time. All things considered, this actually went relatively well. It's hard to describe – it's almost like taking off a backpack I didn't realise I was wearing. For the first time in a month I don't feel awkward when I say the word 'we' in relation to me and Jack. There's no panic that someone might realise that 'we' isn't 'we', but '*we*'. For the first time in possibly ever, I can just be normal around him – not only not having to worry about him realising

An hour or so later, we're sprawled across the couch, and surrounding floor and cushions, stuffed full of pizza and watching a horror movie. For the most part, the post-food coma is setting in, but I'm still kinda buzzed from the adrenaline

"Oh, c'mon! This is ridiculous! She's the Slayer, she should be kicking his ass!"

"Eric, if you're not gonna take the movie seriously, don't watch it!" Rachel shoots back, mock-annoyed.

"I *am* taking it seriously. I'm seriously annoyed by how useless Buffy is being!"

Rachel rolls her eyes, but I can see she's finding it funny. Topanga is curled into Corey on one corner of the couch; horror movies really aren't her thing. Cory is just as scared by them, but has enough desire to keep up his manly credibility that he's pretending not to be, and pointedly refusing to look away or show any fear whatsoever. Shawn and Jack, of course, are loving every minute of it, squeezed onto the other half of the couch. Angela, Rachel and I are sprawled in front of them on a pile of cushions and pillows – prime vantage point for snacks and snarking. On the snack front, though, we're starting to run low, so I grab the popcorn bowl and head for the kitchen.

"Whatever. If she's not going to stake him, I'm not going to care. Call me when she dies."

As I throw a new bag of popcorn into the microwave, I hear Shawn taking over the sarcastic commentary in my absence.

"Did she just throw a bike at him? While running upstairs? Who the hell keeps their bike on the second storey of their house?"

I have to marvel a little at how well tonight has turned out. How well life in general has turned out. Looking out at my friends, held together in spite of everything – awkward break-ups, decade-long sibling grudges, sudden revelations of gayness – you've gotta feel lucky. I'm broken out of my stupor by the ping of the microwave. As I head back in with a fresh batch of salty, buttery goodness, I make a snap decision. Pulling the cushion I was sitting on closer to the couch, I sit between Jack's legs, snuggling in a bit to get comfortable. Almost instinctively, he rubs the back of my neck, before realising how potentially awkward this is.

And for a second the awkwardness is starting to set in. Nobody says anything, nobody stares, but there's a few heartbeats where no one breathes in or out, not entirely sure how to react, Jack and me included. A scream from the television shakes us out of it a little, but it's Angela who properly breaks the silence.

"All I'm saying is, Faith would have kicked his ass."

"I keep trying to explain to you people, they're just actors. They're in lots of things! You need to just watch the movie and enjoy it!" Rachel grouches, trying not to let her smile show.

And just like that, it's OK. It's normal. We're normal. And our friends are able to be normal with us.

No matter how much some things might change, there's some things that will always stay the same, and our friendships are among them.

You've gotta feel lucky.


	5. Outtakes: Everything (As It Moves)

Series Title: Variance

Summary: Series of ideas/vignettes, long and short, that didn't fit in anywhere else. A mixture of 'deleted scenes' and bridging the gap between "Zero Zero" and "Variance"

Series/Sequel: All happens chronologically between "Zero Zero" and "Variance".

Warnings: Slash.

Rating: M? References to sex, nothing explicit.

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

A/N: So yeah. This is an attempt to fill in the gaps and 'stuff that was made too arbitrarily easy' in my own stuff, so basically someone fix-ficcing themselves. Which is odd, but I guess an inevitable result of writing over the course of years, with later-years-Enness having a lot, lot more experience of life and whatnot. Some of these are just bits of conversation that I could hear but couldn't contextualise or write much more around, so they're in here for whatever laughs or fulfilment people may get from them.

* * *

**Title: Everything (As It Moves)**

(Perspective shifts; should be fairly obvious, shout in comments if it isn't)

It's easy to be brave sometimes. It's easy to be sure of yourself when it's just you and him sitting alone on a couch, three beers in, still on that high that you get when you've just kissed someone for the first time. To say 'He's the one', and blithely ignore the fact that your gender pronouns have changed drastically in less than 24 hours. Waking up the next morning with him still in your arms and, once that moment of a happy glow has passed, going through the 'Dream? Nope. …oh crap' thought process; that's a little bit harder to deal with.

That's why, by the time Eric wakes up the next morning, I'm already showered, dressed and on my way out the door. When his eyes flicker open and he sees me, and I can see the thought process going through his head – 'Dream? Nope. Yay!' – and the smile that slowly spread across his face, his happiness more pure than anyone else's I've ever known, it pulls me back in for a moment. Brave again, so when he says "Lunch?" I can't reply with anything but "Absolutely". And then…well, then reality hits.

Sleeping on a couch with 170lbs of Matthews on you is not, it turns out, the key to a good night's rest, so I stop into the Students' Union for a coffee before my first class, and there's Topanga, coffee in hand, getting ready for her day as well. She greets me, just like normal, and asks in that casual-but-nosy way why Rachel showed up at her dorm room last night for no apparent reason, and it all kinda sinks in. That telling Topanga why Rachel was upset means telling her that I kissed Eric. And that leads to her asking a whole load of questions that I really can't deal with – hell, questions I don't even think I can answer. Am I gay? Are me and Eric a couple now? We spend all our time together as it is; what would we even do as a couple that we don't do now? Except that *that* particular line of thought leads somewhere I'm even less sure about.

At this stage, I've already bluffed my way past Topanga ("I dunno why she left. Girly problems?" Claim utter ignorance about women and their emotions and they'll never expect you to deal with anything complex), and I'm sitting in class still mulling over all of this. Normally, sitting in class is the easiest way to distract myself – go onto auto-pilot, take a few notes, keep my brain from turning over the same stuff again and again until it drives me nuts. But not today – today, I keep going back over it all in my head, wondering what the hell I'm going to do. I kissed Eric. *Eric*. And I told him I love him which…well, I do. He's the best friend I've ever had. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes, and I literally can't imagine my life without him. I had just never really thought about what that meant before. I mean, I guess I knew he was attractive. But I hadn't exactly lain awake at night thinking about kissing him; it wasn't until last night, when everything seemed so messed up and I just needed someone to cling to and he was there, just like he's always been there, that I took it that step further. And god help me, even now I don't know why I did it. It just felt…right.

But what does it mean? It's not that I have a problem with girls. I've slept with girls in the past, and liked it, but…well…OK, it's never completely blown me away. But that's just because I haven't found the right girl, right? I mean, kissing Eric felt nice and everything, and we spent most of the night making out, so there was some…grinding action, and that was also pretty nice. But god, I can barely even think the words to myself; I can't even imagine what the next step would be like, and even though it's not like it completely turns me off, it doesn't exactly turn me on either. But then, I didn't know how much I'd like kissing Eric until I tried it…

Man, two classes into my day and I've written about 28 words of notes in total. I'm a mess. And now I have to meet Eric for lunch, which is just going to be beyond weird. I mean, what do we talk about now? What would we talk about if we were a couple? I've never had a girlfriend who lasted longer than a couple of weeks, so while I'm not exactly totally new to this, at the same time I'm hardly experienced. All Cory and Topanga seem to do is talk about how deeply in love they are and plan weddings, and I can't ever see me and Eric doing that kind of crap. And all Shawn and Angela ever seemed to do was make out a lot in public, and I *really* can't see me and Eric doing *that*. Jesus, I can't even talk to Topanga, one of the nicest people on the planet, about this – I sure as hell don't want every random gawker in this college looking at us. And what would we say? The thought of introducing Eric as my…'boyfriend'…I can hardly think the word. What're the odds of me ever actually managing to say it?

When I finally see him again, Eric doesn't look half as torn up as I feel. He actually looks as normal as he ever does – he smiles and waves to me, pointing at the sandwich he's already bought for me, and even though he'd do this on any other day, I still find myself looking around and walking that bit quicker over to the table, and I know he notices this from the way his eyes darken, just a little, and from the way his "Hey!" is that bit less exuberant than normal. I manage to greet him back, and then we sit in silence for a few seconds before he asks about my day, and I'm about a minute into the most awkward small-talk we've ever made when I pull myself up short. We've lived together for over a year and we've never been this weird around each other before.

"What are we doing here?" I say, finally broaching the subject.

He looks at me like I'm an idiot and takes on the tone you'd use talking to a five-year-old. "We're eating lunch, Jack. It's a delicious meal between 'brunch' and 'second lunch'. Well, technically, I'm eating lunch and you're tearing your food into tiny chunks on your plate."

Ordinarily, that'd make me smile at least, but today I just can't. "This is beyond weird, huh?" I say, not even sure what I want to hear, not sure there's anything he can say that would make it not be. He laughs and smiles. "Yeah. It really, really is." And I wish I could smile back and just get over this, but sometimes things aren't that easy.

"Eric, I…I don't think I can do this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

And with that, my bravery deserts me completely. I stand, grab my bag and hightail it out of the Union like I'm being chased by wolves. And as I throw one last glance back at the table I see his face, the absolutely shattered look on it, and I feel like I'm about to get sick right there. By the time I've stumbled far enough away for my heart to stop pounding, I'm halfway across the campus. I sit on the first bench I see, bury my head in my hands and wait until I don't feel like I need to vomit any more. What the hell am I going to do? I don't want to hurt Eric. The thought of making him feel this bad physically hurts me. But I don't know if I can be what I think he wants me to be. How would I ever tell our friends? Could I ever do what all the rest of them do so easily – could I hold his hand in public? Could I kiss him? Could I even smile at him and eat lunch like a normal human being instead of having an embarrassing public freak-out?

But if I don't wanna do this, why is it a hard decision at all? Well, that's easy. Because it's not just about not hurting him. There's a part of me that wants this. Wants to see what it's like to be more than Eric's friend. Wants to know what it's like to spend every morning waking up with that glow I had today, for about half a second, before I let myself start thinking. Wants more than anything in the world to just kiss him again.

Be with Eric. Don't be with Eric. Kiss him. Don't kiss him. Is it too late to go back to how things were? How do you live with someone if you kiss them and tell them you love them, then don't follow through on it? How do I live without him if I can't live with him? What if I don't want this? God, what if I *do* want this? Am I actually sitting here thinking about a relationship with *Eric*? What would Shawn say? What would my stepdad say? What…what would Chet say? But if I can't do this, what do I do instead? Duck season, wabbit season, duck season, wabbit season, over and over and over.

I couldn't be his friend any more. You don't come back from something like that. Which would mean moving out, which would mean seeing far, far less of Shawn. Which isn't something I want, but man is that the *worst* reason to like someone – that you'd be homeless and cut out of a small clique without them.

I don't know how long I sit here for on that bench, staring blankly ahead, going in endless circles through all the reasons why this is a terrible idea, and all the reasons why I really don't care. All I know is it's getting dark when a voice breaks into my reverie.

"Mr. Hunter?"

"Mr. Feeny?" Because sure enough, it's him, briefcase in hand and a puzzled look on his face.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your father." Man, with everything that's been going on, Chet has actually dropped to the bottom half of my mind for the first time since he died. I guess processing more than one life-changing event at a time is beyond me.

"Thanks Mr. Feeny." I'm not really sure what you're meant to say beyond that. Even at the funeral all I could do was shake people's hands awkwardly for a moment then try to move away fast.

"Are you doing alright? You seem a little dazed. I said your name three times before you even looked up."

"Huh? Oh, I'm…I'm fine. Just thinking, that's all."

"Hmm." He doesn't believe me, I can tell that much, but he seems to decide not to push it. "Well, I'll leave you to your thinking. Though I'd advise that somewhere warm and indoors might be a more comfortable place to do it. At times like this, it's often best to be around other people."

"Right, sir. Thanks." And I should leave it at that, but as he's walking away I decide to take another chance. I'm already in about as much of a mess as I can be in, and all the others swear by his advice. "Actually, Mr. Feeney?"

He's a few steps away, but he turns immediately and walks back, waiting for me to continue.

"About 'other people'" ooh, smooth segue, Hunter, "…have you ever…have you ever liked someone, but not known what to do about it? I mean, someone you were really close to, but didn't know if you two could make it work?"

"Hmm. This wouldn't have anything to do with Ms. McGuire, would it?" I stay quiet; I don't want to lie to him, but if I tell him what I'm actually thinking about, he might actually keel over right here in front of me, and frankly, I've had enough of that lately. After a moment, he continues regardless. "I'd wonder why it's a problem. Not every relationship begins with perfect, true, undying love on both sides, and not all of them ever reach that point. None of them are ever free from hardships and many do, unfortunately, end. That risk, for better or worse, is part and parcel of all relationships."

"But what it even risking it caused problems? Like, giant, impossible-to-get-around problems? What if it meant opening a whole load of doors that can't be closed again?"

He considers this again for a moment. "Then I'd say that obstacles are another unfortunate part of relationships, and life in general. Nothing worth having comes easily, Mr. Hunter. If it did, then we wouldn't appreciate the things in life that are truly worth appreciating. And every problem can be overcome, eventually. Some of them just take a little more work than others."

I try not to sigh too obviously. This is exactly what I knew already. Risk and reward, problems and effort, it's all a great big balance and you can't have one without the other. But knowing this doesn't make what I'm going through any easier, and I can't ask him anything more specific without him realising what I'm talking about, so I decide to let him go. "Thanks Mr. Feeney. I think I just need to spend some more time thinking it all over."

"Fair enough. Goodnight, Mr. Hunter." He starts to walk away again, then stops and turns once more. "I will say this, though. Take it from someone who knows – when you're old, it's not the times you risked everything and lost it all that you'll look back on with the most regret. It's the times when you sat back, did nothing and let something potentially wonderful pass you by that will keep you awake at night. I wish you the very best of luck, Jack."

I stare after him as he strolls away. OK, fine, he's good. No wonder they all swear by him. He's right; of course he's right. Just because this all might end in a horrible, horrible mess is no reason not to at least try it. But if I am going to try, I need to be strai…honest with Eric first. I spend the entire walk back to our apartment thinking about what I'm going to say, and praying that he's going to be there, and sure enough when I open the door he's slumped on the couch eating a cookie and watching TV, looking utterly dejected. When he sees me, there's a flash of something – fear? Anger? Remorse? – but the mask is back up within a second, and he seems calm enough as he stands and starts to grab his jacket.

"It's cool, I was just heading out anyway."

"Eric, wait. We need to talk."

"Jack, it's fine, really. Last night was a once-off. You were upset about everything that had happened lately, it doesn't have to be a huge deal."

"But it is! It *is* a huge deal, Eric. And I'm sorry that I'm freaked over this, but I…it just…ah, hell."

And crossing the room in two steps I grab him and kiss him again. It's everything it was the night before – it feels right. It feels natural. Of course, at this point he pushes me gently away from him and it starts to feel a little less magical, but that's beside the point.

"Jack…what are you doing?"

"I have absolutely no idea. All I know is I've spent half my day wanting to do that."

His face is impossible to read – it seems to light up a little as he hears that, but it's still pretty guarded. He can sense the 'but' that's coming. "And the other half?"

I sigh. "Look, Eric…I don't know what I want. I know I don't wanna be Cory and Topanga. I don't know what it means that I feel this way about you. I know I can't see us holding hands in the Union and sipping coffee any time soon. I know I'm unbelievably freaked out by the idea of telling people, or of having to put any labels on this, or of what comes after kissing you." I move my hands up to his face as I continue. "But I know…I know that I love you. I know that I want to see where this goes, even though I have no idea where that is. Before last night, I wouldn't have even dreamed about this, but now…it just feels right. I don't have the slightest clue what I'm doing, and that scares the hell out of me. But I think I want this."

His face stays unreadable for most of what I'm saying, but as I reach the end, he starts to smile.

"That take you long to rehearse?"

"About half an hour. I walked home the long way, just in case." And I can feel that lift in my stomach, the smile spreading across my face so far it almost hurts, reflecting what I can see in Eric's face.

"It was good. Emmy-worthy. You should start putting together a reel, man. One of those 'For Your Consideration' tapes."

I laugh at this, and there's a moment of truly comfortable silence between us. But I have to break it.

"So…?"

He slides his arms around my waist and smiles. "Look, Jack, no one wants to be like Cory and Topanga, not even them. They're freaks of nature and both of them know it. And couples that hold hands in the Union over coffee are saps. And I'm not sure about any of this either – OK, I'll admit, I've maybe sorta had a thing for you for a while. That doesn't mean I'm any better at this than you are. The 'telling people' thing, the sex, that's all just as scary for me."

"So I'm an idiot for worrying, basically?"

"Basically? Yeah." And he leans in and kisses me, softly, and it suddenly feels a whole lot simpler. Of course, I still have stupid questions.

"So what do we do from here?"

He breaks away from me, takes my arm and pulls me towards the couch, sitting down first and pulling me after him so I end up half-sprawled across him, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm around my back. Then he picks up the remote, turns the TV back on and smiles down at me.

"We watch TV, and do exactly what we'd normally do on a Tuesday night, and…just kinda see where things go from here."

"Huh. Cool." And really, it kinda is. After a minute, something occurs to me, and I move back a little to look up at him. "So, Eric? Are we, like, dating now?"

He looks incredibly thoughtful for a few seconds, using his free hand to stroke his chin. "Hmm. I dunno, Jacky. I think for us to be dating, you need to be spending more money on me. Or I need to be spending more money on you. I'm not really sure of the etiquette. Maybe we both need to be spending more money on each other? Hey, we could make each other's rent payments! That'd work, right?"

I grin. "Can't fault that logic."

"No sirree. Ooh, or, one of us needs to win the other some kind of stuffed animal at a fairground. Is there a fair in town?"

I smack the back of his head lightly, then snuggle down more into his chest. It's still weird how normal this feels, but I'm trying hard not to over-think it.

"OK, now you're just making fun of me," I murmur, and he puts his arm around me that bit tighter in response.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're my boyfriend."

"Really?"

"Yeah, kinda. What do you think?"

"I guess I think you're my boyfriend too."

"Cool."

"Cool."

There's another moment's silence before I speak again.

"This is still totally weird though, right?"

"Oh, like you wouldn't believe."

But, strange as it seems, as long as we're in this together? Being braver is easier than I would have thought this morning. I haven't the slightest idea where this is going, but this part right here? Feels pretty nice to me.

* * *

"Do you even know what you're doing here?"

"…I may have watched a few movies."

"…I really don't know if that's a good or bad thing."

"Get back to me in 20 minutes?"

* * *

"You moved the beds together?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

"I had a key to the apartment cut for you and everything."

"…Eric, I already have… I mean that's…" "That's really sweet of you."

* * *

As I let myself into the apartment, Rachel is on her way out – hair done up all nice-like, proper make-up, new dress on, and that vanilla perfume she only uses on special occasions.

"Hey, pretty!" I greet her. "What's up with you?" She grins and gives me a peck on the cheek.

"Aw, thanks Eric. I met a guy this morning at the Union – we got talking in the queue and he asked me out."

"Wow, impulsive."

"Yeah, kinda, but he seemed nice, so what the hell. It's dinner and a movie; worst case scenario I still get to eat and watch a flick." She smiles even wider. "Though honestly, with my track record lately, I'll be doing well if he's not making out with the usher by the end of the previews."

* * *

"I just wish we could do what normal couples do. Go to the movies without worrying what the people there will think. Eat a meal in a restaurant without having to worry about running into someone we know."

"We could just go have sex instead?"

"Well, it is Tuesday."

* * *

"Rachel! Rachel!" She doesn't hear me the first few times, so it seems logical to go full-out 'Khaaaaan!' on her ass. I drop to my knees as I scream "RAAAAACHEEEEELLLL!" across the quad. She turns – well, OK, most people turn, but they're not important. For a second or two she mostly just looks startled; then her face softens a bit and she smiles, walking back to where I'm kneeling.

"Hey Eric. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just the usual, ya know? I was just wondering if you felt like grabbing a coffee?"

Three minutes later, full of conversation that dances around the subject, we're sitting in the Union gearing up for a Serious Talk.

"So, haven't seen you around much for the past few days. Missed you in Economic Policy on Friday."

"…Eric, you *never* go to that class. And I was there on Friday!"

"Yeah, I know. But normally you chew me out for not going on your way out the door, and then tell me what happened when you get back. It's a comforting routine."

She smiles. "I've missed you too Eric. It's just…at first, I needed some time. Then it just felt kinda awkward moving back in again, and I figured you guys would need some space. Did you work everything out in the end?"

There's something I can't quite place in her voice – on the one hand, she sounds genuinely interested, and I think the part of her that's our friend is hoping for a positive answer. But I can't shake the feeling that there's another part of her that would like to hear that we both realised we're far more in love with her, and want things to go back to just how they used to be. Thing is, while I can't exactly blame her for the second, I can't keep the giant smile from my face as I confirm the first.

"Yeah. They really did. We're…well, I'm not sure what we are, but the word 'boyfriend' was thrown around a few times."

For just a second, her smile wavers, and a part of me will always wonder whether she's sadder about the loss of me or Jack. It only takes her that second to get it back together though, and to reach out and rub my arm, and to give a truly genuinely smile as she says "I'm really happy for you. Both of you." Because Rachel? Is a whole lot of awesome.

"Me too. We're not exactly planning a double-wedding with my brother and sister-in-law, but yeah. Things worked out." It doesn't take a lot of effort to match her smile. I take her hand and fix her with my best 'convincing' stare. "Rachel, move back in with us. Look, I know it's a little strange. But we miss you, and we really want you back. C'mon, you've always been the prettiest one there after me, and Jack can't really pick up your slack for that much longer."

She laughs at that, but looks sad. "Eric, thank you. I miss you guys too, I really do. But look, I want to be honest with you. I think it's time for me to move on. I think I need to live somewhere where I won't feel like a giant third wheel. But if you guys will let me stay in my room while I look for a new place, I'd really love to move back in – for now, at least."

I wrap her in a giant bear hug, pulling her down onto the couch.

"Always."


End file.
